Hell is Inside Your Head
by Spiderlass
Summary: Ivan and Matthew's daughter, Anastasia, seems perfect. But is this sweet girl all she seems? Pairings and warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Aaaaand I'm back into Hetalia again. Curse you Paint It White. Curse you. **

**Alright, so a few warnings: This story contains yaoi, some language, insanity (both the hilarious kind and the disturbing kind), odd references, m-preg (don't kill me), fake provinces (for story purposes), human names, and Russia. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Hidekaz Himaruya, nor do I work for FUNimation, though that would be awesome. **

**CHAPTER 1: Prologue**

_August 31, 20XX_

"YOU'RE WHAT?" France, Britain, and America yelled, startling the normally unnoticed Canadian.

"I'm… um… s-strange as it sounds, p-pregnant. W-With Russia's child."

"H-HOW? I mean, not that I'm not happy for you, little bro, but you're a dude! Dudes don't have kids, 'cept in The Sims 2!"

Canada sighed. "Alfred, do you remember when we were colonies and you tested out some of Britain's magic spells on me?"

The boisterous American nodded. "Yeah, but what does… oh."

Arthur groaned and slapped his hand to his forehead. "Bloody hell, America, you cast _that_ spell on him? That spell is dangerous, and it can do serious damage!"

"I was a kid! How was I supposed to know that that spell can give a guy the ability to get knocked up?"

"Excusez-moi, while I 'ate to interrupt your little argument, I'm afraid zat we may 'ave a problem. I think Russia may be dead!"

Indeed, the normally fearless nation had seemed to enter a sort of trance upon Matthew's first announcement of his pregnancy.

"O-Oh, dear…" The quiet nation stepped up to the taller nation, placing both of his hands on opposite sides of Ivan's face. "I-Ivan, honey, are you okay? Ivan…_ Ivan_… _IVAN!"_

The sandy-haired nation seemed to snap out of his trance. "Matvey… you…"

"I-I know. I'm really sorry, Ivan. I understand completely if you don't want to do this with me."

"Wait, what?" Russia asked, sounding confused.

Matthew looked at his feet. "I-Ivan… If you want to break up with me, that's fine. I mean, who'd want a guy who's knocked up, right?" A tear ran down the blonde man's cheek. "A-Ah, sorry. J-Just… Just say it and you can-"

The larger nation had heard enough. Ivan pulled the smaller nation to his chest and planted a light kiss on Canada's lips, effectively shutting his boyfriend up.

"Ah, 'ow sweet! To be young and in l'amour… Well, not really young, but you get what I mean." France said, pulling a rose from out of nowhere.

"Ugh, gag me with a spoon." America grumbled, turning his gaze from the sight of his brother kissing his former political rival. Really, the only reason he tolerated Russia was because he didn't want Matthew to beat him up again. Getting his ass beaten by a wooden paddle with a maple leaf on it one time was enough, thank you very much.

Britain smacked his former colony upside the head. "Shut your trap and be happy for your little brother, you git."

Meanwhile, the couple had broken their kiss. Ivan placed his hands on Matthew's shoulders and looked at him, a serious expression on his face.

"Matvey, listen to me and listen to me well. I will never, under any circumstances, ever leave you. Not now, not ever. You are most important person in the entire world to me, and nothing will ever change that. Do you understand?"

Shaken, the blonde nation nodded, tears still in his eyes.

"Good. Люблю тебя, Matvey."

"J-Je t'aime aussi, Ivan."

… Around nine months later…

_May 15, 20XX_

Russia sighed. Though he knew it was part of his duty as a country, he detested meetings with his nation's leaders. Although, unlike certain other nations (*coughAMERICAcough*), he at least had the decency to keep this to himself. Still, he'd much rather be with his darling Canada at that time. His due date was quickly approaching, and he couldn't bear the thought of Matthew going through the pain and terror of labor alone. Even with Canada telling him it wasn't his fault, Ivan still blamed himself for the state of Matthew's non-existent uterus. Then he chastised himself for thinking it was all his fault, because he blamed himself for far too many things lately. Then he chastised himself again for trying to shrug off the blame, because it was also partially his fault still. Thus, there was much chastising and very little paying attention to the meeting going on in Ivan's mind when an aide walked in holding a phone.

"Mr. Braginski?"

Russia snapped out of his inner blame-fest and looked over at the young lady. "Ah! Yes?"

"I'm very sorry to interrupt, but there is a man on the phone. He says his name is Francis Bonnefoy, and he is calling from Canada." The aide blushed slightly. "He also said I have a very sexy voice."

Ivan's boss sighed. "Be quick, Braginski, we still have a lot to discuss."

Russia nodded and took the phone. "Yes, this is Ivan Braginski. What is it, Francis?"

"Ah, Russia. I'm very zorry, I know you are at a meeting, but I thought you would like to know zat mon petit Mathieu is in the 'ospital."

Russia's eyes widened, his grip tightening on the phone. "M-Matvey? What is wrong with him?"

"Well, nothing, but 'e 'as gone into labor, and-

"WHAT? Francis, where are you? TELL ME NOW!"

Francis quickly relayed the address of the hospital to the panicking nation. "So far nothing 'as 'appened. Britain and I are waiting outside of the room and America went to ze gift shop for some reason."

"I'll be right there." Russia stated just before hanging up. "I'm leaving now." Russia said, getting out of his seat and heading for the door.

Russia's boss stood up. "Wait a moment, Braginski! You can't just-"

Ivan turned to the man. His normally violet-red eyes looked redder with the murderous tint in them, and a purple, angry aura radiated out of him. "I said, 'I'm leaving now'."

Terrified, his boss returned to his seat. "Okayhavefunthen."

After a ride in a jet that seemed slower than molasses to the soon-to-be father, Ivan finally arrived in Canada (the nation, not the man, you pervs). Nothing could stop this giant of a nation. When his cab got stuck in traffic three miles away from the hospital, he got out of the taxi and ran. Even a sudden downpour couldn't stop him. Nor did traffic lights (he was very lucky). Once he made it to the hospital, he immediately ran to the help desk.

"I'm looking for Matthew Williams. Where is he?"

The startled nurse thought about calling security for a second, then dismissed the thought as the man had a good head on even their tallest guards. She quickly directed him to the room.

"спасибо!" He said breathlessly, taking off to the nearest elevator. After a short elevator ride with several terrified occupants, Ivan finally arrived at the maternity ward. Then there was more running. He may have scarred a few newborns for life.

Britain and France could hear Russia for a good minute before actually seeing him.

"Ah, Russia, you're just in-"

"OUT OF MY WAY!" The tall nation said, pushing past them and nearly breaking the doors as he burst into the room. "MATVEY!"

Startled, the small nation looked up. Canada's cheeks were flushed, his hair was a mess and matted with sweat, the curl on his head was completely bent out of shape, and he looked exhausted, yet at the same time tears of joy were in his eyes.

In his arms, a small pink bundle whimpered softly, more at the sudden noise than anything else.

"Well, hello to you too, Ivan." Matthew said softly, then shushing the little small creature in his arms.

Ivan just stared at him dumbfounded, painting from running more than three miles. In the rain, no less.

Matthew smiled weakly at him, still recovering from the exhausting exercise of giving birth. "Well, don't be shy! She's your daughter too, you know."

Still a bit dumbstruck, Russia walked (well, sort of, more like a Frankenstein shuffle) over to the bed, taking a seat in a chair a nurse kindly set out for him. Slowly, as if it were a priceless antique, Ivan took the tiny child into his arms.

Russia was sad to say he had broken a promise. When Matthew had become his lover, he had sworn he would never love anyone else as much as him. But now, looking at this pale baby girl with wisps of sand-colored hair and Matthew's beautiful bluish-purple eyes in his arms, there was someone he loved just as much as the Canadian.

He didn't really care.

"Sh-She's beautiful. Matvey, I love you. And her. I love her."

"So do I, darling."

"Excuse me." A brunette nurse stepped forward, holding a clipboard in her hands. "Sorry to interrupt you, but have you two decided on a name for your daughter?"

"Erm… Well, no, I guess we-" Russia began.

"Anastasia."

Startled, Ivan looked at his lover. "What?"

"Anastasia was your favorite, right? I rememeber you saying that she was the one you liked the most of the Romanovs."

Indeed, before Russia and Canada started dating, Ivan had told Matthew stories of the last Grand Duchess. Russia recounted how Anastasia was a bold young girl, making faces at the royal court, running amok if not watched, yelling random things in French that her Grandmeré taught her, speaking of things a lady of her status shouldn't speak of, and generally making a lot of people's jobs a lot harder than they needed to be. She was also one of the few people who both knew what Russia was and still treated him like a person. Oh, the tsarevich was kind to him, but his disease kept him from seeing Russia very often. Ivan was devastated when he was forced to take them from the palace and to the docks. He would never forget the look on Anastasia's face as she was shoved into the boat, screaming and cursing Russia and his people as tears ran down her face. For years after her death, rumors of her survival circulated throughout the Soviet Union, and its people searched for their lost Princess (they also looked for Alexei, as rumors of his survival accompanied Anastasia's). No one looked harder than Ivan. He refused to believe that witty girl hadn't escaped, and until all the remains of the Romanov's were found in 2009, he didn't give up.

"You were listening? I thought you stopped paying attention when I got to searching part!"

"Of course I listened! So, how about it? Anastasia Braginski-Williams?"

Russia paused. Then he smiled at his boyfriend. "Da. Anastasia Braginski-Williams."

"Wonderful! Erm, how do you spell Braginski?"

Russia smiled and spelled it out for her. Just as the nurse walked away, America burst into the room, holding a bunch of baby blue balloons and a giant bear with a bright blue ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

"The Hero is here to see his nephew!" Alfred yelled cheerfully. He was met by silence.

"Er… Al, bro, I'm afraid…"

"Moronic American, Anastasia is a _girl_." Russia said, passing his daughter back to… her other father.

A look of stunned embarrassment crossed America's face. "Uh… Be right back!" He yelled again, running out of the room again. Britain sighed, walking into the room after him.

"Honestly, that man… Well, enough of that! Congratulations, you two!"

"Yes, congratulations to you both! Now, let Grandperé see his darling granddaughter!"

After a few hours of commotion (and Alfred returned with a more suitably colored bunch of balloons and bear), Anastasia was taken to sleep with the rest of the newborns, as it was already 8 P.M when she was born, and nearly midnight by the time everyone left, and Russia and Canada were left alone.

_Matvey is so wonderful… Already he was my darling angel, and then he brought me new angel… I love him so much… _

"Hey, Matvey?"

"Mm?" The tired nation asked, turning himself to look at his lover.

"…Пойдешь за меня?"

Matthew sighed, propping himself up on his elbow. "Honey, you know I'm learning Russian, but I can't really speak it that well. I have no idea what you just said to me."

"… Marry me, Matvey."

Canada did a double take. "Wh… Wh-What?"

"I mean it. Marry me. I love you so much, and I can't imagine life without you or Anastasia. Will you marry me, please?"

Canada blushed, the red nearly invisible in the dim lights of the city coming in from out the window. "… Y-Yes, Ivan. I love you."

Russia smiled, then walked over to the bed and kissed Canada.

Needless to say, the pullout bed was not used that night.

**A/N: Aaaaand there you have it! Prologue is done! Oh, and Anastasia is sort of like what the State OC's are: Not really countries, not really humans.**

**The scene where Ivan meets Anastasia is loosely based on the birth scene from Itazura Na Kiss Episode 24. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. NAAAOO!**

**Translations (please note that I do not know either Russian or French, I used Google Translate):**

**Russian to English:**

Люблю тебя: I love you

спасибо: Thank you

Пойдешь за меня: Will you marry me

**French to English:**

**Je t'aime aussi: I love you too**

**That's all for now! Oh wait, copyrights…**

**Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**

**The Sims, The Sims 2, and The Sims 3 © Electronic Arts**


	2. начало: beginning

**A Note: I am **_**sooooooooo**_** sorry this took so long! I got… preoccupied. *glares at Canada, England, and America***

**America: What did **_**we **_**do?**

**Well, let's see. Mattie, your nation is home to the voice actors for the cartoon **_**My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic**_**, which is so damn addictive and adorable. Iggy, you have **_**Doctor Who**_**. And Al, you have both **_**Scrubs **_**and **_**Star Trek**_**. I've got ponies, Time Lords, goofy doctors, and Vulcans running around in the magical land of my imagination! Do you know what that's like? I keep imagining Pinkie trying to make Spock go into hysterics while the Doctor salvages what remains of the fourth wall and Kirk tries to use Fluttershy's d'awww-ness to create galactic peace! And God, was it ever a bad idea to let Dr. Cox and McCoy meet! It's a war of creativity in there! I don't even **_**know **_**where the New Directions went! And guess what? The main characters of **_**my **_**story are still stuck in the middle of a timeless meadow because of it! My head's about to EXPLODE! *stops for breath***

**England: … Bitch you crazy.**

**Yeah, well, I'm the crazy bitch who's writing the story. But enough about my insane creative mind! Let's get down to it! ALLONS-Y!**

**Doctor: HEY!**

**Shut up, Doctor. PINKIE PIE DON'T TOUCH THAT!**

**Chapter 2: ****начало: beginning**

… **Many years later…**

_December 24, 20XX_

"Ana! Darling, are you nearly ready for the other nations?"

"One minute, Père!"

The young province smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she finally finished braiding her long, sand-colored hair. It had taken absolutely _forever _to get it long enough to make a braid like the women she saw in her Grand-Père's home had, but seeing the finished project made it all worthwhile. Now, she finally got to show it off to, quite literally, the whole world!

Anastasia Marie Braginski-Williams, more commonly called Ana or, in business situations, The United Commonwealth of Svetslana, giggled as she twirled before her floor-length mirror. "Hee-hee! This hair makes me look sort of like a princess or something, da? I hope that big nations like it!"

"Anastasia! The Baltics and your Aunts are here!" Russia called up to his daughter.

"Ah! Coming, папа!" The girl ran quickly out of her room and ran to the top of the front stair case. "LOOK-OUT BELOW!" She called, positioning herself on the banister.

"W-Wait a second, Ana! Please don't slide down the-" Matthew started, already knowing the rowdy girl wouldn't listen. Indeed, Ana definitely lived up to the reputation of her namesake.

"YAAAAAAA-HOOOOO!" Ana screamed as she slide down the wooden stairwell, flying off of it at the end to land on an unsuspecting Latvia.

"O-Ouch…" Lithuania said, wondering why it was that she always seemed to land on him.

"Oops. Sorry, Raivis!" Ana said, dismounting the poor nation and offering a hand to help him up.

"I-I'm fine, Miss Anastasia…" Latvia mumbled, lifting himself off the tile.

Ana frowned at Raivis' formality. "Why do you always call me Miss Anastasia? Its fine if you call me Ana, you know! Everyone else does!"

Raivis blushed. "U-Um, no thank you, ma'am…"

Ana sighed. "You're really weird, Raivis." She then turned her attention to her aunts.

"Hello, dear!" Ukraine said to her young niece. Belarus smiled warily. Over time, she had (with the help of Estonia, her current boyfriend) found a way to realize she wasn't ever going to marry Russia. Matthew becoming her brother's lover triggered that realization. She did like Ana, but she still wasn't very good at expressing that.

"AUNTIE KAT! It feels like it's been forever since I saw you last!" Ana said, running to hug her Aunt.

Katyusha laughed. "Darling, I saw you last week!"

"I know! That's way too long!"

Ukraine laughed again, releasing her niece from the hug. Ana then turned to Belarus, giving her a quick but well-meaning hug. "And hello to you as well, Auntie Natalya!"

"Y-Yes… Hello to you as well, Ana."

The situation, which had the full capacity to turn in to the most awkward day ever, the grand door of the main hall flew open, a gale of freezing wind and swirls of white snow cutting through the entrance.

"GAH! Идиот, shut that damn door! It's middle of winter in Moscow!" Ivan bellowed as he shielded his husband and daughter from the blizzard.

Quickly, three large snowsuits appeared from the ice storm and slammed the door shut, blocking out the cold air and snow mountain that was slowly building.

"Dude! Why's it always so damn cold over here? Seriously, I'm freezing my berries off!" America complained as he removed his parka.

"Well, if you are really zat cold, I am sure zat zere are many wonderful ways to-"

"PAPA! Not in front of the impressionable little girl!" Canada scolded.

Ana glared at her father. "I am _not _little girl! I am young lady!"

"Of course you are, dear."

After hanging up his coat, England walked over to the family. "Well, Alfred and Francis's bad sense of shame aside-"

"HEY!"

"Bugger off. That aside, it's wonderful to see you again. You look lovely, Anastasia."

The province smiled at the complement. "Thank you! I'm glad you think so, Arthur!

America walked over and patted her on the head. "Heh, you're really growing up quick, huh, kiddo? Seems like just yesterday you were a baby, and now you're turning into a beautiful woman."

Anastasia blushed violently. "I-I… Alfred, you really think that I'm-"

Just then, the door flew open once again, letting yet another cold blast of air into the hall.

"GODDAMMIT, DOES NO ONE REALIZE IT IS DECEMBER IN RUSSIAN CITY?"

"Sorry." As quickly as they came in, the former Axis Powers (and the former nation of Prussia) shut the door and began to remove their snow gear.

"Ve~… Germany, my zipper's stuck!" Italy announced. The blonde nation sighed, moving to (once again) help the ditzy boy.

Gilbert snickered noisily, which caused Ludwig, after he had fixed Feliciano's coat, to turn to his brother with a questioning look. "And just vhat is it that is so funny, bruder?"

"Oh, nothing, West…" Prussia said nonchalantly, then pretended to cough as he said, "WHIPPED"

Immediately Ludwig turned the color of one of Spain's beloved tomatoes. "E-EH? Vhat are you- He is- I don't-"

"Ve~? Germany, what is Gilbert talking about?"

France chuckled as he placed a hand on the Italian's shoulder. "Well, my dear little Italy, you see, Gilbert is simply commenting on ze fact zat Germany is completely- OW!"

Canada, who did not look at all happy with his father's behavior, kept a steady grip on France's ear. "Papa, I would appreciate it if you didn't act like a mindless _apostat_ in front of your granddaughter._Il ya plusieurs choses__que je__préfère pour__elle de ne pas__savoir__pour l'instant."_

"AH! Okay, okay, jeez! When did you get such a strong grip?"

"_Vous savez que__je parle français__, à droite,__Père?" _Ana deadpanned, her arms crossed in accordance with her signature 'You're kidding me, right?' expression.

"_Bien sûr,__je le fais,__chérie__, cependant,__votre Grand-Père__répond mieux__à__ses propres-"_

"STOP SPEAKING FANCY NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND YOU!" America yelled, hands thrown in the air in exasperation. Immediately, the three French-speaking nations (four if you count England, though he hates to admit he knows the language of his most hated enemy) turned to glare at him.

"_L'Amérique est__un idiot__.__Aucune infraction__,__Père." _Ana commented, never diverting her cold stare away from the dirty-blond nation.

"_Aucun__prises." _Canada replied, also not turning his gaze from the American, who was now beginning to squirm.

"Uh, dudes? N-Not that you're freaking me out or anything, c-cause heroes don't get scared, but could you maybe… um… IGGY! HIDE ME!" The self-proclaimed 'hero' screamed, diving behind his former care-taker (which looked hilarious because Alfred was at least a head taller, and let's not even mention heavier, than the Brit).

"What exactly do you expect _me _to do?" Iggy asked sarcastically.

"I dunno; tell your imaginary creature thingies to maul 'em or something!"

"For the millionth time, they are _not _imaginary! And anyway, they don't like you, so they wouldn't do it anyway!"

America looked shocked at this. "Eh? Why not? I'm like, the coolest and handsomest guy _ever_! What's not to love?"

"You're a self-centered, egocentric idiot with a hero complex. And those are the _least _of your faults."

America breathed out angrily. "Well, in that case, you're a bitter old man with anger issues who believes in fairies and can't hold his liquor!"

"Why you- How dare you speak to me that way? I _raised _you, for the love of God!"

As the two became more immersed in their argument, Canada and Russia began to laugh. Ana turned to them, a curious expression filling her features.

"What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetie. I was just thinking about how Al and Arthur always kind of act like a married couple."

_Married… Couple…?_

Ivan grinned mischievously. "Da, sometimes is like they are _trying _to be obvious about their, how they say, 'Elephant in Room'."

_Elephant in the… _Suddenly, a sharp pain resonated in Ana's head, causing her to visibly wince and groan softly.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Ana quickly straightened, despite the stabs of agony throughout her skull. "I-I'm fine! I just have small headache! I think I will rest for a little while in my room. P-Please call me when time for dinner!"

Without giving her parents a chance to speak again, Anastasia flew up the stairs, slamming the door of her room shut. Once she locked the door, she grabbed a pillow and collapsed to the carpeted floor, using the pillow to muffle her wails of tortured misery, spasms of pain rocking her crumpled form as she wept into the cotton pillowcase. The pain was immobilizing, torturous.

And all too familiar.

_No… not today, not now! I can't… Alfred can't know! _

_**And why not? **_A snake-like voice whispered sinisterly, cutting through the unbearable agony.

The violet, tear-filled eyes widened. _No... Not you! Please, don't make me-_

_**Oh, you poor, naïve little girl. **_**I**_** have never made you do **_**anything**_** you didn't want to do. I simply told you what you already know. So, why not let him see how important he is to you?**_

_Important…_

_**Make him know he's the only one for you.**_

_My only one…_

_**Do what it takes to make him yours.**_

_Mine and only mine… yes… I will make sure… no one else will have Al but me!_

Abruptly, the agony overpowering her senses ceased. Just as the pain faded away, someone knocked on the still-locked door.

"Ana, love? Dinner is ready, if you're up for it."

_**Now's your chance. If he's not around, what's stopping you?**_

_That's right… If England isn't around… I'll have Al all to myself!_

A plan before her, Ana rose from the floor and walked to the door, slowly opening it.

"Ah, glad to see you're alright- WHOA!"

Without reluctance, the province dragged Arthur inside, her fingernails digging into his arms.

"W-What the bloody hell are you-"

Before he could finish, Anastasia had her hands gripped around Arthur's neck, squeezing tighter and tighter as he struggled to choke and cough.

"A-Ana… wh-why are you-"

"Shut your fucking face and die already. I will not let _anyone _take away my Alfred, do you understand? And if that means that I must kill you, then I will not give it second thought."

Terror bloomed on England's face as he stared into those insane violet eyes. "Y-You're mad! Wh-why would I-"  
>Tighter. "Don't you dare lie to me, you bitter old <em>Limey<em>! I see how you look at him, everyone does except him! I will not let my love be rivaled by someone like you!"

"L-Love… I don't-"

"DON'T FUCK WITH ME! DON'T EVEN TRY YOUR BRITISH BULLSHIT! I WON'T-"

"Guys? Is everything- WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU DOING?"

America rushed inside, pulling the murderous province off of Arthur with relative ease. England, freed from his assaulter, gasped for breath, wheezing and coughing.

"Anastasia Marie Braginski-Williams! What the hell were you doing? Strangling kills people, including nations!"

Ana laughed humorlessly. "How stupid do you think I am? I know what strangling does, I'm not child. He's in my way, so I have to cut him down. Nothing… nothing will stand to block me from what I desire."

Alfred stared, fear starting to set in. "Wh-What… What do you mean?"

Another humorless chuckle. "Oh, Alfred. Dear, darling Alfred…" She turned to him, her pale pink lips curled into a malevolent, cat-like grin, yet pure affection obvious in her eyes. "Don't you understand? Even if I means I kill everyone in the whole world… I will have you to myself, no matter what."

With that statement, Ana's eyes closed, and with a small moan, she collapsed to the ground.

**Well, that's done! So, yes, Anastasia does have an insane side to her. Trust me, this stuff ain't for little kids!**

**Translations: (Please note: I know neither Russian nor French, though from Spanish, which is similar to French, I can guess a few words. I had to use Google Translate, so the translations may not be accurate!)**

**Russian to English:**

папа: Papa

Идиот: Idiot

**French to English:**

Père: Father

Grand-Père: Grandfather

Il ya plusieurs choses que je préfère pour elle de ne pas savoir pour l'instant: There are things I'd rather not have her know just yet.

Vous savez que je parle français, à droite, Père? : You know that I speak French, right, Father?

Bien sûr, je le fais, chérie, cependant, votre Grand-Père répond mieux à ses propres-: Of course I do, dear, but your Grandfather is more responsive to his own-

L'Amérique est un idiot. Aucune infraction, Père: America is an idiot. No offense, Father.

Aucun prises: None taken.

**That's all for now, folks! I promise, this time I'll update sooner!**

… **Is anyone reading this still?**


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